Tag: God

Redemptive rain

Our own Duc Huy, along with Dylan, during the 80’s, sang about “the hope of redemption” and how “the heart found joy once again”.

The 80’s was the time of culture war: right vs left, straight vs gay, East vs West, secular vs conservative.

Thirty years on, we are faced with a different set of challenges. Small potatoes now grow dominant, so do small apps.

BRICS finally emerged, while incumbents are now worried about social disparity and other larger trends i.e. gay marriage. It rained here last night in Saigon. Free wash! Free Aircon!

One cannot ignore the sound of heavy rain pounding on tin roofs. It was also redemptive: one wash sweeps all dirt.

Duc Huy resonates the longing for faith and trust.

His thoughts flow, from morning coffee to evening pavement ( that leads to the girl’s home) and display universal longing for permanence instead of temporal, eternal instead of fleeting.

Duc Huy wishes for more rain to tie down his love, for time to stand still.

That moment in time, we all experience at times, is called Kairos.

It is a mark, an event that is more significant than any others.

It reveals who we are to us.

Then, perhaps,  there is hope for redemption.

“Toi hy vong duoc on cuu roi” (I might  hope for redemptive love).

I started my opening chapters of Monte Christo.

We all know the story line. But its author first paints the perfect picture of a young sea Captain reunited with young wife, before he is betrayed, and imprisoned.

Of course, the plot will switch to revenge instead of redemption.

But that is human drama unfolded.

That is how much “dirt” we manage to produce.

Then came the rain. Redemptive rain.

One wash, all gone.

Begin anew. Hope again, trust again, love again.

Like smokers who will get a new lung after 7 years of quitting, we all are getting another shot at life. Just don’t use the same script again. It will only produce the same result. Try the opposite. From bottom and up. Outside in. Be creative. Be redeemed. Be rain makers.

Sand bag Body bag

A Thai monk needs to lay more sandbags to stem the flow of water, while Libyan fighters can now lay down their guns since the Colonel was finally in the bag, body bag.

One country exports rice, the other oil.

Back in 1997, Thailand’s rising real estate bubble nearly took down neighboring Asian Tigers with it. This time, its rising waters will surely drive up the price of rice.  No one can yet predict oil price in light of the latest development in Libya.  But oil consortium already committed to the tune of $100 Billion to modernize Iraqi facilities.

While monks in Thailand have always taken up a still posture, young fighters were on their Westward move, hanging  tight to guns on wheel.

Hot sand in the desert versus wet rice  in the Mekong.

In Thailand, a Thai-American was jailed for speaking against Royalty.

In Libya, NATO’s jet fighters rained down  2-Billion dollars worth of bombs.

God must have a sense of irony for granting rain and shine on the good and the evil.

Next time, when they celebrate water festival in Thailand, I am sure some people will have  flashbacks.

But in future Libya, those young fighters can always look back with pride, because for them, to stay alive isn’t enough. They need to become “Colonels” in their own rights. Their turn at resolving the Oedipus complex. But that’s what history is made of: old wine in new skin. I happened to spot Cher’s image on a magazine cover, right next to Kardashian’s. There is nothing new under the Sun . The water will recede in the East, and fighting subside in Mid-East.

By then, we, with our attention deficit, will have moved on. Living in Internet time and on borrowed time. Living with higher price of rice and rising price of oil.  Sand bag & Body bag.

Neon God

” People bowed and prayed, to the neon god they made” (Sound of Silence now inducted to

the American Museum as Classic American Sound to be preserved).

Meanwhile, we spend an average 8 hours per month on Facebook, “the cathedral they made” (same amount of time people attend church services).

Twitter is not addictive. Facebook is.

Via the latter, we learn about people and companies, and the company they keep.

Those “likes” and snippets keep trickling in, like rain drops that Pavlovian-condition us to salivate.

Facebook works well with Youtube. One-two punch.

The video link is right there, ready to be viewed.

While Twitter is like a news feed, Facebook has become our trusted source of recommended entertainment and enlightenment.

Family photos and commercial photos both pop up indiscriminately.

It’s all in the pipe, and we open the floodgate, willingly without reservation (after all, we “friended” them in the first place).

What in the beginning resembled child’s play now commends global attention and respect (our next Steve Jobs).

It’s like a Casino, Cathedral and Community theater all in one.

While Ebay might be the largest bazaar, Facebook has become the Neon God (the Bubble of our own making) to which people bow and pray.

The platform has become the prophet.

The medium, the message.

8 hours a month, forever and ever, world without end.

http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,2095516,00.html

In restless dreams I walk alone…. and the voices of the prophets are written on subway walls, Facebook walls, and whisper’d in the Sound of Silence.

Daughter-Daddy

Before my daughter arrived, I had heard of other people’s birth complications which required C-section etc…

So we took up Lamaze classes, and I felt “effeminated” among men and women with pillows.

When I drove A. home the hospital  offered to wheel her out (already strapped in the car seat to begin with). In the parking lot (A.’s first outing) some passerby said “Oh, how cute”.

I realized then I got “china” to be cherished and well-guarded.

The drive home was unnecessarily longer than usual (with light rain to dramatize the scene). At home, we had friends already with welcoming signs.

“Welcome home A.”

She was indeed special and welcome to this world (later, she would experience the Northridge earthquake, LA riot, dot.com burst, single-parented, 9/11 and great Recession. But that was for later).

A. grew up calling me Papi (after the baby sitter’s language).

A. has an amazing sense of coordination. This showed in her taking up Hip-Hop at an early age, and went on to win in competition (no 1 USA).

She collaborated with her “brown” friends (the new valley girls).

And conducted herself beyond reproach.

Any dad would be lucky to have a daughter like A.

She now in Jr College, juggling P/T job and school.

I used to have the same work load while in college.

Time passes more quickly when you are busy. It keeps you out of trouble.

On Father’s Day, I always received her self-made cards. This year, as in years earlier, always with pictures from A.’s childhood. The bond will never be broken.

Every man deserves a special relationship like this.

It redeems us .

You know you can look at yourself in the mirror when your daughter said “we’re tight”.

The role of the alpha males has evolved over the years: from protector to mentor, from “lord” to buddy.

This year A. sent me a picture with us wearing same T-shirts (in design and size).

Now, that’s team. It doesn’t matter that in the photo, she was a child in over-sized T-shirt (for some day, when she reaches middle-age, I will be fading away).

For that moment, as a team, we were like one, tight.

Daughter-Daddy. No business travel, no airport food.

Just sitting on the floor, at eye level. Give Daddy a hug, a kiss.

It’s like communion. I was absolved and consecrated.

It’s not wrong doing or right doing. It’s given that we are imperfect.

What matters is, like any other species, we are built biologically, to transfer our survival and artistic genes. Do this, don’t do that. Eat this, no, not that (poisonous).

So, we navigated through the Valley (San Fernando) and yes, Mountain peak (Grand Canyon). I kidded that A. was a “jungle boy”, when she took off her shirt on one hot day at the peak of the Aztec pyramid. Back in urban jungle, she is surrounded by her Hip-Hop friends. The girl is popular, and well-liked. I would rather you judge me by looking at how well she turns out.

You see, the best thing in life came in small packages. And even better, when it’s from above. A. didn’t have to send me any gift at all. She herself has already been one.

Daughter-Daddy. I promised her my 555th blog will be dedicated to her, for keep’s sake. That future might see more incidents and mishaps, but has one constant: Daughter-Daddy: tight.

Losing one’s self

In a recent NYT op-ed, David Brooks summed up prevailing graduation themes: find yourself, live to the fullest, be passion-focused etc.. instead of losing yourself in solving others’ problem. Even my kid knows that time passes more quickly when you are absorbed in a task.

When you lose yourself, you end up finding it.

Before graduating, I took up an internship at an ABC affiliate in Scranton, PA.  At the time, it had a huge dump for abandoned cars. Mount Pocono was not too far away. Often times, the only news in town was trash workers’ strike, which I helped cover with passion.

Then, we were sent to Harrisburg to follow a lead on a nuclear power p accident. Before I knew it, I was held up for days, learning more about broadcasting than I could ever learn in 4 years.

I never went back to Beaver Stadium to receive my diploma. But I did get my badge of life. After the experience of working for nothing, but learning everything, I went on to make three rounds of volunteer overseas to lose myself again and again (all along acquiring the sense of place, of cultures and social webs.)

He who is no fool to lose that which he cannot keep, to gain that which he cannot lose.

From there, I found my modus operandi: work hard, play hard, and work some more (adrenaline producer).

Schools are so structured and protective. The institutions are built on a foundation of learning, character building and self/status-preserving. Students aren’t encouraged to take risks, much less think out-of-the-box (occasionally, they brought in speakers from “outside”, but the script remains the same: conformity).

I hung out with a group of well-meaning students: wholesome and healthy (Get Together, Kum By Ya).  But life outside of campus is quite off-script. On campus, Joe Paterno might be our “God“, Raymond Brown, another one (Penn State Choir), but the Trinity in real life, I found out, were gold, silver and green.

It’s hard to convince people to think critically and carry on intelligent discussions without screaming, attacking and holding a personal vendetta.

At work, instead of collaborating, I found clique after clique.

In school, I forgot that I was non-white. In life, they make sure I am reminded of it.

So, to recent grads: keep losing yourself that you may find it.

Other people may know some parts of you better than yourself. So, to fully discover yourself, you will have play sport-contact against life’s jagged edges.

One day, hopefully sooner than later, you will come to a sudden realization that you are not the center of the universe, and that not every one accepts and loves you unconditionally as your mom and dad have (I use present tense for you, but past tense for me).  And the most you can elicit from strangers are like a line in a Chicago album “does anybody know what time it is”.

Life is difficult. Life in post-Recession era is even more difficult.

The only way to survive this downturn is to charge out of the gate, ready to give yourself completely away without hope of a return. Surprise the world with your Camelot zeal . Ask not…..Infect others with your enthusiasm and passion.

We need your strong muscles and your radiant smile.

I love those who pulled all-night going over text books. Now get ready for lengthier and thornier book of life.

It’s only just begun. Ironically the beginning was at the end, the way Orientals flip their books. Counter-prevailing as it is, David Brooks has a point. So was T.S. Elliot.

Under-utilized imagination

The-girl-with-a-dragon-tatoo series got me hooked. I know it’s cold  in Stockholm. And I know he did not produce tangible products from the factory, such as sweet or swatch.

But he offered readers an emotional experience (getting out of mundane existence, stepping into character and experiencing triumph and tragedy unavailable to us otherwise).  The author did not live to enjoy his success, which is a tragedy in and of itself.

We despise those who cooked up sub-prime collateral obligation. But we wasted a lot of brain power which could get us out of our dilemma. I am hopeful that someone is building a better Twitter, a faster YouTube, and a more efficient Netflix.

On LinkedIn, the Innovation group has experienced phenomenal growth. It is to show that we want to connect with like-minded creative people.

If you want to generate energy, join a Samba group. We don’t get much results by exercising alone. The same way when it comes to exercising our imagination.

One person’s zany idea might trigger another’s bankable invention (the Orange Revolution).

Last Saturday, I sat with a few people who at one time in their career achieved sales success.

These sales veterans wanted to brainstorm some ideas. I remembered the excitement and anticipation among the group.

Multiply that experience by nth time. Then we might get  that gene pool to work. Each of us already is a miracle (at conception). Now, we need idea incubation (Edison and his team, not Edison the lone inventor).

And maybe, a star is born. It doesn’t cost much to exercise our imagination. It’s already there as nature’s gift. Some of us capitalize and monetize it better than others. In the case  of the-girl-with-a-dragon-tatoo trilogy, the author did not live to see his characters alive on the screen. God rest his soul. His characters are so real to the million who bought those books. Who said imagination is cheap? It is just under-utilized.

Recovering in Joseph’s way

There are some positive upward movements today.

Brought to mind Joseph story i.e. recovery from the seemingly bottomless pit (put there by who else but his own brothers).

But Joseph managed to press “reset”, reinvent himself (befriending the warden), to eventually rise to be Chief of Staff.

What did he have ? Persistence, ability to turn revenge into reward, and finally took the high road (of forgiveness).

We can take a page or two from that play book.

Great men were great not because they managed to avoid the bottom.  Precisely the opposite: they face it and not face down.

(Churchill’s line : never, never, give up. Although he later admitted to making a mistake by going by the gold standard during post-war resettlement).

Just make sure your stance is sturdy . My trainer said he could tell the shape you are in by watching how you squat.

What ever the stage of grief we are in, press “reset” and move on .

I have seen companies that thrived (McDonald’s and McAfee), folded (Circuit City and Bebo) or acquired

( Burger King by 3-G Capital and Hertz by Dollar.)

In crisis there is opportunity (builders in San Bruno are called back to work).

So begins our long climb out of the pit. One step at a time. Oh, don’t forget our Joseph who decided early on that the best revenge is sweet success, success that spills over and lifts everyone, frien-emies included.

 

Think of me, next Memorial Day

How much time do you have left?

Life expectancy average has been up, but individually, it’s an open question.

The question.

And this question should stand Maslow scale on its head i.e. if you knew you were going to die tonight,

would you be moving methodically up the Need pyramid? Or just go ahead to think that thought, say that word

and do that deed? Fearlessly.

Every week, I drove by Rapids, a water park, but haven’t once entered it.

The last time I tried jumping from the Devil‘s tower (vertical drop) I fainted for a few seconds.

Maybe this weekend, I will try again.

What’s your “water park”?

The chairman of Giant -Taiwanese bike Lord– has tried to do just that. He is going to repeat the national track on his 80;’s birthday. So did George Bush, the father, when he celebrated his birthday by jumping out of a plane, as he did in his youth.

A vet friend of mine, tall and friendly, used to karate-kick really high ( this was junior high when we used each other as human punch bags).

He went to war and came back injured.

We spent a lot of time catching up over the last decade after we had met again on the West coast.

Gone were the kicking. Just the sense of irony and humor left between us.

Imagined if he had died and never come back.

We wouldn’t have had those extra hours over coffee, computer and chicken rice (his 3 C’s).

Yesterday Gary Coleman, the star of Different Strokes and lately, Pay Day Advance spoke person died at the age of 42.

A doctor I know of the same name same age, died a few months back. He was adamant about checking other people’s cholesterol level. His cause of death: heart attack.

The hard part is to know when your time is up. The easy part is to choose how to live each day as if it were your last.

And since it’s my last blog, metaphorically, I hope to leave with you that sense of appreciation for life, as is.

We couldn’t negotiate our arrival, and our departure. So I guess, life as presented to us, is a non-negotiable package.

I am glad for the internet (1 and 0), music (7 notes) and the alphabet (hope and history rhyme).

And I appreciate those role models who exploit those infinite combination and permutation to show us what life was all about..  Their en-code have become my source code.

During those Kung-fu fever years (90% of our group took up Kung-fu of one form or another) I thought I could skip the law of gravity. I ended up with a broken arm.

And this weekend, perhaps, I will try to jump again.  But this time, it will be safe. It’s a water park, for God‘s sakes. And recession admission is buy one and get one free.

Someone has to watch and make sure I don’t faint again. A little attention for the living is much better than a ton for the dead.

Think of me next Memorial Day anyway regardless the outcome.

P.S. As of this edit, I have just gone back from my morning job. Passed by the noodle house. They were putting up funeral wreath. It was the noodle man’s last day. Perhaps I will think of him next Memorial Day. And the Syrian victims of Sarin.